


Her Sin

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Porn Battle, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki eases some of Sif's tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XV (The Ides of Porn) for the following prompts - Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki Laufeyson/Sif, oral, table, teeth, thighs, taste, kneeling.

Sif was alone when Loki came to her, footsteps echoing against the stone flooring of the banquet hall. Sif looked up, angry at the intrusion, body stiff with the virulence of the emotion, before she turned away, a sneer pulling at her lips. Ordinarily, she would have welcomed the company, even from Loki, yet that night was not a night for companionship, merely one for retrospect, and solitude. 

“My my, aren’t we the pleasant little hostess,” Loki purred as he dropped into the chair next to her, chair legs scraping against the hard floor with a sharp and uncomfortably intrusive noise. “You did not even offer me a drink; all you offered me was the cold shoulder. Shame on you, Sif.” 

“Not now, Loki,” Sif said, voice taut with anger as her words whipped through the air with a sharp sting.

There was a brief silence at that and Sif could feel the weight of Loki’s eyes upon her; she could just imagine the way that the other was raising his eyebrows, yet did not want to give him the satisfaction of actually turning to check for herself. 

“So, this is because you did what? Lost one measly fight? Have you not lost a fight before in all your long and illustrious life, my Lady?” Loki asked, and there was a hint of mocking beneath his words that made Sif feel even angrier. 

“Aye, you well know that I have, much as it rankles me to admit it,” Sif said, turning partially back to Loki without giving the trickster a direct look.

Instead, she sagged back into her seat, the hard wooden piece of furniture creaking beneath her movement, as hard armour connected with equally hard wood. 

“We should not have run,” she growled out.

“You are not a coward for keeping yourself alive, Sif,” Loki said. “I would have done the same.” 

“But I am not you,” Sif spat out, turning an angry eyed gaze upon Loki at last.

“And that is supposed to mean what exactly?” Loki asked, with an arch lift of one eyebrow.

Sif could tell by the expression in the other’s eyes that Loki knew very well what was inferred, but Loki seemed to want to take great pleasure in dragging the words from her unwilling throat all the same. 

“I am not a craven coward as you are,” she said. “I, at least, take others into account and act acordingly.” 

“I am not a coward, nor am I cravenly. Merely clever in always thinking of myself,” Loki countered. “If I did not put myself first, and therefore save my own skin constantly, then how could I not then stay alive to save others?”

“While there’s logic in your words, you do not think of others at all,” Sif said, with a sigh. “You would just as soon as hide than try to help.” 

“Not true, at least not always,” Loki countered, calmly.

“Name one time that you did not think of yourself,” Sif replied, with a sly look at the trickster beside her.

Loki stared at her, a blank expression upon his face; Sif started to grin, an odd sense of triumph running through her veins. It seemed as though she had finally outwitted Loki’s infamous silver tongue.

“Do not kid yourself that you have won, fair lady,” Loki said, finally. “I merely choose not to answer.”

Sif snorted, but said nothing more. She doubted that there was any truth in Loki’s words; there hardly ever was

“I will not answer, when you are in such an antagonistic mood. Nothing and no one can reason with you whilst you are like this,” Loki pointed out.

Sif almost expected him to move, to get up and leave her as he so often did, yet that time he didn’t. Instead, he remained seated, long fingers playing idly with a butter knife, eyes resting upon a chicken bone, gnawed free of all meat. 

“I need wine,” Sif said, finally, deciding that she could not win against Loki’s particularly brand of logic.

Few people could, although most at least tried. Sif was too bone-weary and angry to even bother, stung by her own fear of being cowardly after running from a good fight that they could eventually have won. Again, the fight played through her mind, of being ambushed in Svartaflheim by the dark elves, of the ringing of blades in the darkened air, and of being driven back by those same elves. 

It had been Fandral who had eventually given the order to retreat, the sting of defeat plain in his voice and in his eyes; while Sif and Hogun had argued against Fandral’s logic, Fandral had stood his ground. Again, the elves had driven their blades against them, leaving them little choice but to follow through with Fandral’s proposition. 

She knew that Fandral had been right, as had Loki been, by proxy. To run meant that she could fight another day; she could always take the fight back to the dark elves another time, when fate and fortune would favour her better. That they’d lost no one that day was a minor miracle, no doubt aided by their swift retreat.

“I see you have come to realize that I am right,” Loki observed, a clear smile in his voice. 

“If you dare say - again - then I will be forced to stab you with that butter knife,” Sif warned, as she reached forward to grab at the nearest wine bottle. 

“I should like to see you try,” Loki said, with a smile that seemed to infer dark promises in even darker shadows. “However, I should like it if we did something a little more enjoyable for us both, that did not involve the insertion of metal object's in anyone's body.” 

“You know that I cannot,” Sif said, stiffly, as she finally stood.

She attempted to move away but Loki was blocking her path before she even realized that he’d moved. His hands were against her upper arms, holding her lightly with fingers and the weight of his gaze. Despite herself, she shivered and went towards him, even though she hated herself for it. Every time that this happened she promised herself that it would be the last time, yet it never was. Something about Loki called to her time and time again, called her body to cleave to his and so that unnamed feeling, be it lust or love or something else entirely, was dangerous and deceptive and so delicious. 

Loki’s sudden chuckle was dark and purring against her, and she felt it as much as she heard it; her body tightened up in response and she cursed herself for everything she knew she was going to do. She was giving in already, like she always did, like Loki knew that she would. In that, she was the sinner and Loki her peculiar sin. 

“You want me,” he said. “As much as I want you. I smell it on you, I feel it in you, I see it in your eyes. I am your sin that you cannot help yourself from committing; give in and save us both the trouble.” 

“Loki,” Sif began to protest, yet already Loki was walking her back to the table and she was allowing it.

The truth was, Loki did speak the truth, for once. She wanted him, craved him like a deep longing that burned her bones and made her skin shiver with the intensity of it; she gasped when the table hit against her upper legs and she stumbled a little, caught by the table itself, with her legs spread wide and Loki between them.

She closed her eyes and Loki pulled her trousers down with one swift, slick movement, followed by her underwear. She felt cool air against her skin as he passed his fingers against that most private place of her; she moaned, unable to keep the sudden desire from her voice.

“Good,” Loki purred, before he leaned in to take what was already his. 

Sif felt the first brush of Loki’s mouth against her thigh, a sweet caress that seemed at odds with Loki’s cold, aloof exterior. His tongue was warm when it lapped out to taste her skin, trailing slick lines up her thigh; his teeth were sharp as he nipped at her flesh, leaving small bites and welts wherever they passed. He pressed his lips and tongue against her, before he started flicking the end of it against her clit. Her fingers snarled in his hair drawing him closer and he complied, mouth hot and suckling against her now, fingers sliding and thrusting into her. 

Sif moaned, tilted her head back so that the crown of her rested against the table. All she could feel was Loki’s mouth upon her, his tongue laving at her and his fingers twisting deep inside her. She moaned again, loud and long, and hooked one leg up onto Loki’s shoulder so that he had better access to her. He purred and the noise and vibration against her almost pulled a climax from her. She gave a quiet, stilted scream, and immediately hated herself for such a girlish sound before she screamed again, louder that time when her climax hit her, shuddering from deep within her, pushing its way out of her and coating Loki’s tongue and fingers. He lapped at her until she’d finished, before he slowly stood, tongue lapping at his smirking lips as he stared down at her. 

She struggled to sit and was rewarded with a kiss, Loki’s mouth cool bow against her lips yet still she could taste herself upon him as he licked his way inside her mouth. Sif moaned, gave in completely to Loki and he laughed into her mouth before drawing away to wink at her. 

“I believe we have some unfinished business in my quarters, do you no think so? We have plenty of hours with which to sin, and plenty of sins to commit,” he said.

“Promises, promises,” she said, with her first grin in some hours.

“These ones I aim to keep and gladly,” he said, and Sif knew that he would.

Sif sighed and pulled her trousers up, before following him away from the banqueting hall and to the seclusion of his chambers, where sin and sex awaited her.


End file.
